


nightcrawling

by noturno



Series: it's a leap of faith [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe - Spider-Man Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, Falling In Love, Healing, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Introspection, Lee Jeno as Spider-Man, M/M, Mark Lee (NCT) as Spider-Man, Multiverse, Pre-Slash, Slow Burn, Snapshots, Strangers to Lovers, Trans Mark Lee (NCT), this is heavy on the spideylore i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:27:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23758366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noturno/pseuds/noturno
Summary: Jeno picks up his cup of tea once more. It's probably cold. Mark's Jeno despised cold tea, and this Jeno smiles at him with teeth that are a bit too sharp, too white to be from this world. "Well, I think you'remyguy, Mark Lee. In fact, you're exactly what I need."(Being Spider-Man, Mark is sure he has seen a lot of weird shit. When a Jeno Lee from another reality comes knocking at his door, he has no idea what he's in for.)
Relationships: Lee Jeno/Mark Lee
Series: it's a leap of faith [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1715965
Comments: 24
Kudos: 176





	nightcrawling

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this with diurno on ao3 weirdly floating with ill intent behind me  
>   
> click [here](https://twitter.com/minhyungender/status/1253535881287401475) for an intro post  
>   
> [black lives matter. here's how to support them.](https://moreblminfo.carrd.co/)

_We’re shouting the scene where_

_I swallow your heart and you make me_

_spit it up again. I swallow your heart and it crawls_

_right out of my mouth._

_You swallow my heart and flee, but I want it back now, baby. I want it back._

— SIKEN, Richard. "Dirty Valentine"

_I have lost a hero_

_I have lost a friend_

_But for you, darling_

_I'd do it all again_

— St. Vincent, "New York"

//

Mark didn't ask for this.

He's only ever wanted to be a good drummer, start on T, graduate from Empire State University, see his grandmother more often, fall in love, plant a tree, write a book, get married, have two kids — in that order. Simple wishes, he thinks. Nothing he can't handle, nothing he can't do. He was making _progress_ with it, almost halfway there.

Mark didn't ask for this. If he were to choose, he'd never choose it — he'd never choose this for himself. Not in a billion years.

He looks down at the city coming alive right beneath his feet. If he were to take that leap, maybe the ringing in his ears would stop— it's where Jeno went, anyways, down and down to where heroes like him belong — with the _people_. Not his Jeno, of course [ _But he was never mine in the first place, was he? Neither of them is_ ], but another Jeno. He has to remind himself of that constantly. Not _his_ Jeno. _Another_ Jeno. Someone that doesn't belong here, that doesn't belong to him-- so yeah, if Mark were to take that leap, maybe the ringing in his ears would stop, and he'd have to remind himself of that one more time.

He looks down at himself, then, and ties his ballet shoes tighter.

//

[ _Alright, people, let's start at the beginning one last time. My name is Mark Lee. I was bitten by a radioactive spider and, for the past seven years years, I've been the one and only Spider-Man. You know how it goes. I joined a band; I kicked some villain ass; I saved my father countless times; I couldn't save my relationship; and I lost my best friend, Jeno… So I don't do the hero thing anymore--_ ]

//

"I think I saw a ghost today," he tells Donghyuck over lunch. Lunch meaning he is watching Donghyuck practically inhale a disgraceful amount of sugar in the shape of that yogurt atrocity — plain yogurt, lots of fruit, Nutella, and gummy bears, _disgusting_ — while sipping on his tea. He's burned his tongue already. Mark doesn't know how to do anything without going overboard, and maybe that is why: "I puked on the street because of it. It was quite embarrassing."

"You'd make a terrible Ghostbuster then," Donghyuck replies, although his neatly done left eyebrow raises significantly as he scopes the last of his yogurt with a wooden spoon — save the turtles, or something like that —, silently asking him to go on.

Mark looks out of the window. It never rains on Donghyuck's side of the town. It must be so that rich people can never ruin their rich people hairdos. "But it wasn't him. Jeno never dyed his hair blonde, ever. So it wasn't him, and it wasn't his ghost either. But I thought it was him."

Nodding, Donghyuck puts his cup down. Almost three years ago he would reach and hold Mark's hand in his and tell him it would be fine, but they've both grown out of it already. "He should have. Dyed his hair, I mean, at least once. It would have looked nice on him, don't you think?"

"Yeah, it would have."

//

[ _But that was before he showed up_ ]

//

The ghost — the ghost is _not_ Jeno, neither is it a ghost for real, but Mark calls them that. A ghost of something it reminds him of, and a ghost of something Mark would like to forget — no, not forget, never forget, just something he would not like to think about as he steps inside an empty subway train first thing in the morning.

This is where they always meet.

Him and the ghost, that is. This is where they always meet. At the subway station, in this particular train. It's been a few days. The ghost stands on the other side, near the door, and it looks at Mark like it wants to say something, but Mark doesn't dare to look back.

It's not real. It can be. Maybe it is not a ghost but it must not be real either. It doesn't matter that it's wearing a disposable mask because Mark would know that mole under the eye anywhere, would be able to trace the shape of those hands anywhere, so he has to look away. Not real. Not fucking real, thank you, he should probably change his meds.

!!!!!!, his mind tells him. !!!!!!!, like every other time for the past month, and Mark for a moment wonders if it would be too much of a bad idea for that radioactive spider to be just another venomous spider, so that he could have simply died instead of--

"Hello, there," the ghost says. Mark did not see them moving. !!!!!! enough for a lifetime, Mark grabs the metal pole by his side just because. He can break it if he wants to, he can smash it on Jeno-- _not_ -Jeno's head and flee before the worst happens. "I know this is going to sound weird, but my name is Jeno, and--"

"No, it's not," Mark replies. He tries to think of every face-stealing monster he's ever faced and _killed_ , and tries to think of which one tricked him. He's never left an enemy undefeated before, except for one. "Leave me alone."

The ghost frowns. "I know it's crazy, but..."

"I said leave me _alone_ ," he repeats, this time louder, and he's going to leave the marks of his fingers on this metal pole. Just like how one of the lockers in his old high school has an indent shaped like his hand, courtesy of that time he did not know how to deal with his powers yet. "I don't know what the fuck you are, or what you're doing here, but it's not funny, so if you wanna kill me like everyone else tried to, stop with the tricks and just go ahead. You either do that already, or I'll do it to _you_."

Taking a step back, the ghost widens their eyes at him. For a second, its expression is so much like what Jeno's used to be that Mark's heart feels heavy.

"I don't want to kill you. I'm just--," the ghost sighs. It pulls the mask down and Mark takes a step back, startled. "I'm sorry for the looks. Let's do it one more time, alright? My name is Jeno Lee. I was bitten by a strange spider, and for the past--"

//

[ _Yeah, I've always known it takes one to know one_ ]

//

"I've been to a bunch of different universes before," Jeno tells him over a cup of tea. Jeno tells him over a cup of tea _and_ Mark listens over a good dose of whiskey that Donghyuck gave him on his birthday. "There's something weird going on in the past few months. I keep waking up in places I've never seen before, different realities in which everything is the same but it's also different. The sun sets a different color back in my New York City, you know?"

"Different realities," Mark repeats, slowly. He's sensed it before, that Jeno wasn't from here, but a part of him doesn't want to believe that. This could be just another freak trying to get information about the multiverse, so he has to play it cool. "Are you tripping?"

"I swear on the Web of Life and Destiny."

Seems like it. Mark motions for him to continue, and Jeno puts the cup down and brings his hands to his hair, pulling it back. Mark's Jeno never wore his hair slicked back, he also didn't wear clothes like this — his Jeno was all wool sweaters with collars untucked, glasses propped up on his nose. He hasn't thought about that in a while, and Mark has to look away momentaneously before he does something stupid like cry in front of a stranger, or maybe throw a punch.

"I'm here because I need your help," he declares, looking at Mark in expectation. "I keep waking up in different places because he's killing me. Everywhere. He's killing each and every single one of me that exists in each and every single universe, so _you_ need to help me out before all the me's out there are gone for real. You're my only hope."

Mark frowns, leaning forward on his seat. "Who are you talking about?"

Jeno purses his lips, staring at him. There's an ugly, ugly scar that begins at the left corner of his mouth and slices his cheek in half, makes it look like he's smirking, makes it look like he's a freak-- he notices Mark looking again and scratches at his cheek in an attempt to hide it. He speaks up in a lower tone: "The Devourer of Totems," and when Mark inhales a sharp breath, he adds: "You've met Morlun before. How was it?"

"I don't want to talk about that."

"You have to. He's going to come after me again,"

"So?" Mark shakes his head, rubbing his eyes with the tips of his fingers. "Just fucking go back home, leave my city and take your mess with you. You're not my responsibility."

Jeno stays quiet for a really long time. There's something really odd about him, Mark thinks. It's more than the scar. It's the whole package. But Mark figures that if a legendary hunter of super-powered beings was hunting him through the multiverse, he'd look like a freak too.

"I died here, too, didn't I?" he asks, and Mark looks away, to the white walls of his apartment, to the window, anywhere. "I died here, I just know it. I always end up somewhere I have died. And you knew me, isn't that right? I know you from ages ago. I can feel it."

Mark can feel it too. He replies: "That's none of your business."

"I died here," Jeno repeats. "And you let me die. If anything, I died for you, so you _owe_ me."

Mark looks up at him, hands curling to fists on his lap. "It wasn't you. You're not him, and you have nothing to do with it. You don't know me."

Jeno flashes him a smile. It somehow makes him look worse. "I know you everywhere, Mark. Think of it as vengeance, I know you want it. You keep me alive, we beat him up for good, you get some sweet revenge, I leave you alone. Do we have a deal?"

While he does not reply straight away, Mark still asks: "Why do you need my help, anyway? If you've been out there in the multiverse, you know there are far more powerful heroes than me. I'm just a guy."

"Well, you might be just a guy, but you escaped Morlun without him leaving a single scratch on you," Jeno picks up his cup of tea once more. It's probably cold. Mark's Jeno despised cold tea, and this Jeno smiles at him with teeth that are a bit too sharp, too white to be from this world. "I think you're _my_ guy, Mark Lee. In fact, you're exactly what I need."

//

[ _This is our origin story._ ]

_//_

There were other Spider-Men before Jeno.

There was Jisung with his bright red and blue suit, staring at Mark from the other side of a conference room — one of the few things that Mark did for the government before they decided they didn't like him anymore. Jisung is not from here, from this universe, when he went back home, Mark missed him. There was that one time in which that scientist, Kun, induced him into a coma so he could connect with a Spider-Man called Sunflower, and he reminded Mark so much of Donghyuck that it creeped him out for weeks. And there's, well, there _was_ Heejin, but she's off to be a hero somewhere else — she's meant for the bigger things, that one. As for Mark, he's never going to leave New York City.

Sometimes this life of his is like that. The Web of Life and Destiny pulls at its own strings and puts people in Mark's life once, twice, thrice, until he learns how to keep them around, or how finally to let them go.

//

"Where did you sleep last night, by the way? I told you I'd sleep on the floor."

Jeno lets out a snort. He looks better when he's clean, straight out of the shower, a towel over his shoulders, he'd look exactly like your average college kid if it wasn't for the scars that cover his torso, very much like Mark's own. It's what you get, being out there, fighting off monsters, running from policemen, etc. He rests his hands on his hips and says: "That's sweet of you. I went out for a walk, as I don't sleep."

Mark raises his eyebrows, looking up from his computer screen. He'd been trying to hack into S.H.I.E.L.D's database to try and find out where Jeno comes from, but Guanheng's code just told him NICE TRY, LOSER and sent about five thousand pictures of Steve Rogers to his personal email. "Ever?"

"Occasionally," Jeno shrugs. "You have some clothes you can lend me?"

Mark's eyes dart to his wardrobe, and after little thought, he makes a gesture at it. "Suit yourself."

He goes back to his task. If only Heejin was here, she'd know how to get inside S.H.I.E.L.D's database without leaving any traces — they've done it before, the two of them —, and Mark considers actually calling Guanheng and offering him a truce or something. The last visit that Mark payed at S.H.I.E.L.D was around the time they tried to sign up the Sokovia Accords — he can't believe he actually fell for Tony Stark's bullshit, but whatever, Mark doesn't want anything to do with any of them anymore. He grumpily deletes another spam email from Guanheng, and looks up again when Jeno lets out a small, surprised sound.

"What's up?" Mark asks, suddenly worried that he hadn't gotten rid of one of Renjun's experiments from college according to him, or goobers according to Mark on most days, — Renjun is _always_ giving Mark shit he doesn't want… Or used to. They don't even talk anymore ever since his father, the Green Goblin, well, died by Mark's hands. It happens. Jeno turns around, a familiar sweatshirt hanging on his frame perfectly, and Mark's heart falls to the floor.

Obviously, Jeno's clothes fit Jeno perfectly.

It makes perfect sense. Still, it doesn't mean that Mark isn't left wondering why he hasn't gotten rid of them in the first place [ _It's because I'm always waiting for him_ ], since it's been so long. He should've donated them, or had Renjun deal with them, or simply thrown them away, but he'd tucked them all inside a box and hidden inside his wardrobe, for reasons unknown [ _It's because I will always wait for him_ ]. He watches, from the pull-out sofa, as Jeno twirls in his feet, wearing Jeno's old sweatshirt from college, the red one, a stark difference from the clothes he'd been wearing before.

"It's very comfortable," he announces. "I'm keeping it."

Mark swallows dry. "I think there's more where that comes from. Feel free to take anything you want."

Mark wants to throw _his_ clothes away. Jeno walks around like he lives in a dumpster, that leather jacket has seen better days. Whenever Mark looks at him, he wants to cup Jeno's face in between his hands and ask what the fuck is up with him, but Jeno never lets him get too close. And Mark, well, he doesn't really want to get too close either. Looking inside Jeno's eyes is like standing at the edge of an abyss. If you spend too much time looking at an abyss, it starts looking back at you, so Mark always looks away.

He blinks at his computer's screen. The spam emails never end, he might as well just create a new one. The pull-out sofa dips as Jeno sits on the edge, a jar of crunchy peanut butter and a spoon in his hands. Mark bought him five of these in the course of two days, all because he's afraid to find out what happens when Jeno gets hungry. When Jeno offers him some, he shakes his head negatively.

"There's more of those in the cabinet over the sink, if you want it," he mutters.

Jeno smiles at him with the spoon still in his mouth

//

One thing's for sure: Jeno has the same pout in every universe.

It's not something Mark is glad to have noticed, though.

"Don't give me the stinky eye," he says, watching as Jeno sighs before he starts inspecting the pockets of a coat with notable curiosity, pulling out some gums that he promptly steals for himself. "I don't have good hiding places in this apartment."

The closet is too small to fit someone comfortably, as well as everything else in Mark's apartment — it's a shoe box, one that he's learned to live in ever since he moved out from the previous one, the one that he shared with Jeno —, and Jeno lets out an exaggerated groan as he extends his legs, looking up at Mark with a funny expression, one of his elegant eyebrows raised. "What's up with the Jaemin dude? He's your man, and that's why you can't let him see another guy sleeping in your bed? Is that why he said he wanted you back? Well, you can tell him I don't sleep, but that I don't mind sharing, either."

Mark rolls his eyes, stepping away from the closet so he can do _something_ with his life. "You're sick in the head. Jaemin is--" he sighs, motioning vaguely. Jeno is there by his side in a second, offering Mark one of the gums he's found, but he shakes his head. "Jaemin has nothing to do with our world, Jeno. He's just an average guy."

Humming, Jeno pops the gum inside his mouth — Mark is mildly disgusted, but this Jeno has weird eating habits. He's suspicious of most fruit and devours everything that Mark cooks for him, and he likes his meat rare to very, very rare.

All in all, he's weird. He rarely stays on the ground and spits out venom, and his webs are natural, not made by him. Mark has spent the whole weekend studying it, but stopped once Jeno started saying that he was doing it because Mark's suddenly got the hots for him. He's got a mouth, that one, and Mark rolls his eyes at the thought, reaching out to pull his journal from where he'd safely tucked it under the couch's cushions so he can continue studying.

Jeno hangs upside down from the ceiling, blowing air on Mark's face to brush the fringe off his eyes. "Haven't answered my question yet," he comments, a teasing grin on the corner of his lips when Mark looks up at him. "Jaemin is an average guy, but is he your man?"

"Why are you so interested?" Mark asks instead. "Suddenly got the hots for me? Are you jealous, perhaps?"

In one swift motion, Jeno plops down by the couch beside him. "I had a girlfriend back home," he says, with a tilt of his chin. "Had to break up with her because it was too dangerous. I don't know where she is anymore..." Jeno hums quietly to himself as he chews his gum, leaning into Mark's side to take a look at his journal. "Dating is a dangerous thing for people like us, you know?"

He stays quiet for a while, and then adds: "Humans are too fragile. You blink, and they're gone."

//

The underside of Mark's sandwich is burnt, which is a pity, he scrapes the black parts with his nail as he listens to Jeno hum a song under his breath.

"You're singing it wrong," he points out just to be annoying. He's been trying to get under Jeno's skin just to give him a taste of his own medicine, but it's nearly impossible to do so. Mark will keep trying, though. "That's not how the song goes."

"That's not how the song goes _here_ , but that's how it goes where I come from," Jeno replies without looking at him. He's finished his sandwich long ago, in three or four bites, and now he's just swinging his feet to the vast unknown under them. "Is it always boring, here? What does a guy have to do to have a villain making a mess in Mark Lee's New York City?"

Mark shrugs as he chews, looking down at the city. He figures that in another universe, these buildings aren't so tall, and wonders what it is like, not to feel like you're so little when you're on the curb and you look up, up, up, and they never end. Up here in this construction crane, he feels like a bird of prey, like a king or something in between. But something's changing about his New York City, like God is changing the cables behind the TV and the colors are a bit off. Too bright. Hurts his eyes.

[ _Ever since Jeno arrived, it's been like that_ ]. Mark turns to him and watches as he runs a finger down the scar on his cheek, then taps his lips absentmindedly. He's got that thing, Mark's noticed, that he looks like he's always a second away from sinking his teeth at something and biting it off. When Jeno looks back at him, he looks down at his half-eaten sandwich.

"Where you come from," Mark starts very quietly. The last time he tried asking, Jeno threw himself out of the window and came back two days later. "What is the music like?"

Jeno lets out a surprised hum. A change of perspective. "Like here. But there hasn't been music for a really long time there. It's all mostly in my head now."

Pursing his lips, Mark nods. He's been trying to figure it out, wherever Jeno comes from, but there are a billion realities in the multiverse and he could've come from anywhere. "I am-- well, I used to be in a band, but I quit," he tells Jeno, which earns him a pair of raised eyebrows. "I played the drums, but I wrote some songs as well. My friend, Donghyuck, is the lead singer and there's Jungwoo, the guitarist, and Yangyang, who plays the bass. They now have a drummer called Sicheng. And the other day, when Jaemin was back at my place, he was there because he wanted me back in the band."

"That's not what he said. He's not even in the band."

"That's what he meant. I know him better than you do."

"Because he's your man."

Mark rolls his eyes and starts wrapping the remaining half of his sandwich, so he can tuck it inside his bag and eat it later. Jeno repeats: "You know him better than I do because he's your man."

"Stop saying it like that," Mark insists. He can't believe he's doing this. "I know him better than you do because I keep an eye on him all the time. He's a journalist, and he usually covers… The unusual stuff. Heroes, villains, he's always there. So I keep an eye on him, I don't want him to get hurt."

Jeno tilts his chin in Mark's direction. "Mmh, alright. He knows about you?"

"No. But he almost found out, once."

"How?"

Mark closes his eyes for a second, ashamed with the memory. Jeno is never going to let him live because of it, but then again, it's in the past. "When we dated back in college--"

"I knew it!"

"-- he thought I was cheating on him," Mark continues, elbowing him in the ribs, and Jeno lets out a hiss, his fangs out on full display. Mark is not afraid of him anymore. "Because I was never there, because I never answered his calls, because he knew I was lying about where I was and so on. So I told him I fell out of love and we broke up."

"But he wants you back."

" _In the band._ He says I shouldn't give up on the things that make me happy."

"Does _Jaemin_ make you happy? Are you going to go back to him?"

Mark sighs exasperatedly, wrapping his hoodie tighter around himself before he gets up, standing on the metal platform that's been keeping them from falling all the way to the ground. "We're _just_ friends. Is that all you think about, Jeno?"

Sensing that they're leaving, Jeno gets up as well in one swift motion. A smile slowly spreads out in his lips, all white, sharp teeth. When he smiles, the left corner of his mouth perks up higher than the other, the creepiest lopsided grin Mark has ever seen. And then Jeno pulls his mask over his mouth and nose — his suit is pitch black, blacker than the average black, with white stripes that form a cobweb, and it's nearly impossible to see him in the dark of the night if it wasn't for his visible eyes and the mop of blonde hair, almost white under the moonlight.

"Is that not what everyone in here thinks about?" he asks, his eyes curling like half-moons.

Well, it might be. Mark wouldn't know. Instead of replying, he jumps into the vast unknown under them, not bothering to see if Jeno will follow.

He knows he will.

//

It's Spring when Jeno mutters, "It's my birthday."

Mark buys him two of the biggest ice cream cones he could find in New York City, and then takes him to Central Park. He thought of the aquarium at first, but Jeno likes it best when there are no walls involved. Says his New York doesn't have things like these, and then pets all the stray cats when they're back at the Queens. Mark finds out his smile is an easy, pretty little thing. "Happy birthday, Jeno," he tells him. "I'm sorry I couldn't throw a party."

To which Jeno scoffs, hands on his hips as they ride the elevator to their floor. "It's depressing that I'm your only friend, did you know that?"

Mark rolls his eyes so hard they hurt.

//

"Why is it that you never got your suit on?"

Mark shrugs, tugging at the straps of his backpack as he kicks a pebble in the street. "I don't know where it is."

"Spider-Man doesn't know where his suit is?" Jeno snorts.

"I don't do the hero thing anymore, Jeno."

Jeno lets out a laugh so loud that it echoes in the street, a hollow sound like the cry of something that's dying or looking to kill. Each and every hair in Mark's body stands up, his breath comes out as white fog as he looks around, searching for him. "I don't like it when you vanish, Jeno," he whispers exasperatedly. This isn't a familiarity that he's fond of. "Maybe show yourself and talk like normal people, for once."

Jeno blows air at the back of his neck, giggling into the night as Mark flinches violently, his fist flying before he realizes, and the air flickers like asphalt on a hot day when Jeno reappears, holding Mark's fist inside his own.

"The hero thing is not something you stop," Jeno tells him. "You're not born a hero, but you'll always die like one."

Mark pulls his hand back, but Jeno hangs onto it in a tight grip. Under the street lights, in ungodly hours, he mingles into the night bit by bit, like a venomous spider waiting to get its prey, and Mark is but a moth oblivious to the danger.

"Do you talk from experience?" Mark asks. "Do you always die like a hero, Jeno?"

Jeno's grip on his hand tightens, he rubs his thumb over Mark's own. "This time, I won't," he smiles. "You won't let me go like that, right?"

When Mark pulls back, Jeno lets him.

//

The connection isn't good, but Mark manages to make a smile out of the pixels that are Johnny Seo's face. "Hello, stranger," he says with a wave of his hand. "I haven't heard from you for a while."

"I've been busy," Mark lies. Out of instinct, literally, he turns his head back to where Jeno is messing around in his tiny kitchen, trying to see if he's going to end up setting something on fire. The last time it happened, Jeno vanished for a whole week, and Mark spent that time searching for him in every dark, greasy corner of New York City. Jeno is terrified of fire. Something in Mark's head goes off, an idea, and he turns back to the screen. "So, that vampiric bitch is pissing me off, as I told you by email. How do I stop him once and for all?"

Johnny raises his eyebrows, and he brings his joined hands to rest his chin over them. "How did you do it the last time?"

Sighing, Mark looks up at his ceiling for a while. He doesn't particularly enjoy remembering his encounter with Morlun — he's had his fair share of terrific villains before, but something about demonic forces who feed on his people just hits differently. It's not difficult to recall it all, he's dreamed about it a thousand times.

"I didn't kill him," Mark reminds him, looking back at his computer screen. "I just scared him off, me, Lucas and Doyoung. I'm thinking of fire. What do you think?"

A loud screech comes from the kitchen: " _NO FIRE._ "

Johnny frowns, leaning forward in his seat. "What was that? Is someone there with you?"

"No one," Mark replies. His mind goes off like !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!. "It's my new neighbor. He's off in the head and screams randomly sometimes."

Johnny doesn't look convinced, but he doesn't say anything else. He goes over the research he's sent to Mark through email, answers his questions, asks a lot of other questions, listens to Mark's research as well. All in all, this feels just like the old times, and perhaps it's why Mark feels so uneasy letting him know about Jeno. If it was up to Johnny, him and all the other people like him would be safely living in bunkers under the ground, somewhere monsters like Morlun wouldn't find them. Johnny's purpose in life is to protect people like Mark, like Jeno, like himself, at all costs.

But then again, what is life without that balance, Mark thinks as he closes the lid of his notebook, sinking onto his couch and sighing. The Web of Life and Destiny creates the spider-like creatures, and the existence of the spider-like creatures creates the creatures who feed on them. It's dialectics. It's what keeps the wheel of the world moving and moving and moving. They just have to hold on a little longer, be strong a little longer. Living their life is a leap of faith, one they have to learn how to take.

Jeno quietly climbs onto the couch as well, pulling his knees to his chest as he munches on something that looks like a chicken leg… Uncooked. Mark tries to pull it off his hands, but he hisses.

"I can cook it for you," Mark insists, rather softly even though he's very concerned. "You're going to get salmonella."

To which Jeno replies "I have no fucking idea what that is," as he pops the entire piece inside his mouth, meat, bone and everything in between. The crunching sound is sickening, but it puts Jeno in a good mood, his eyes curling like half-moons.

"What's your thing with food, anyway?" Mark asks at some point, watching as Jeno gets up to find more, probably.

"No food where I come from, at least not good like it is here," Jeno replies simply, not even putting up a fight. Mark turns around on the couch to see him going through his freezer, and gets up as well before Jeno starts eating frozen stuff. "I'm just so fucking hungry all the time. You know I'm more spider than you."

Mark knows. Objectively speaking, a common spider eats approximately 10 percent of its body weight every day, but he doesn't want Jeno to assault his freezer during the night. He, too, has to eat at some point, and that's why Mark gently puts his hands on Jeno's hips and pushes him away from the fridge gently. "Can you get me one of those big, glass bowls from the cabinet? I know how to make a mean sweet and spicy chicken."

Jeno stares at him blankly as he licks his fingers clean, and when Mark raises eyebrows at him, he nods and complies without a word.

//

[ _I don't know where Jeno sleeps, because he's never there when I do. It can't possibly be good for him. I'm on the verge of dozing off when he closes the window behind himself and I'm telling him to lie here, I got no fucking idea why, and the shocking part is that he does. He's not that bad up close. I don't know who sleeps first, but I'm the first to wake up, my right eye hurts like_ hell _, and Jeno says he is sorry he is sorry he is sorry he is sorry he is sorry he is sorry he is--_ ]

//

"What's up with you, huh?" Donghyuck asks. He leans in and presses his thumb to the patch of thin skin under Mark's eye, pulling it downwards. "Your eye looks like it's bleeding, did you know that? Did you scratch it?"

Mark bats his hand off him and steps away where Donghyuck can't reach him, mingles with the crowd in the street for a second until Donghyuck, ever so stubbornly, finds him again. "It was the neighbor's cat," Mark lies. "You know how cats don't like me."

Pursing his lips, visibly not convinced, Donghyuck links their arms together as they resume walking through the street market. When Mark was human, he was the clumsiest ever — everything about him was out of place. With the bite, he's found himself — he's better than he ever was. He used to love it, and then he started despising it.

He doesn't know how he feels about it anymore, but he's starting to think he likes it again.

"We miss you, you know," Donghyuck tells him. "Me and the guys. We haven't seen you in months."

Mark hums. The last time he's seen any of his friends face to face, Jeno wasn't in his life. His eyes dart up discreetly, to the buildings above them, and he knows he's up there somewhere. Jeno doesn't like being inside the apartment for more than he needs to. "I've been busy," Mark replies, which isn't a lie. The lie is here: "I'm thinking of going back to college, you know? Been trying to look into it."

Donghyuck smiles as brightly as the sun, his free hand squeezing Mark's arm. "That's so good to hear! Oh, the others will be so happy--"

He doesn't feel bad for lying. Mark's lied all the time ever since he was bitten — the only human in this world who knew he's Spider-Man is now seven feet under. He should've listened to Johnny sooner, but there's no point being bitter about it now. Mark smiles softly and tells Donghyuck just how excited he is about going back to college, the things he wants to do, the things he wants to be; the lie tastes so good that he almost believes it.

"Well," Donghyuck says as they part on the subway station. He brings a hand up to pat at Mark's cheek. "Careful with the cat, the next time. See you on the weekend, maybe?"

They won't be seeing each other on the weekend, probably. Mark nods. "See you, Hyuck."

The subway ride home is quick and free of trouble as it always is. He buys sandwiches for Jeno in a place that he likes. Mark finds him sitting on the fire escape stairs, and Mark lets himself web his way up to sit by his side. He places the paper bag closer to Jeno.

"Brought you food."

He doesn't reply.

"It's roasted beef, I know how much you liked it the last time."

Still no reply. Jeno reaches out with a hand and Mark watches as a beautiful _Argiope aurantia_ leaves her web and climbs onto his hand, twirling in between his long, elegant fingers. Jeno brings her closer to his face to study her, and the spider extends a leg to briefly touch his nose as if saying hello. Spiders treat him well. He's more like them than anything else, and Mark doesn't know if that's a cause or a consequence.

Mark clears his throat: "I brought extra mayo for you. _And_ french fries."

"I'm sorry for your eye," Jeno tells him, suddenly, as the spider crawls up his arm. "I didn't mean to hurt you. And I didn't mean to run away either."

"It's not your fault, you had a nightmare. I have those, too."

Jeno purses his lips, pressing his knees to his chest and resting his cheek on his knee, looking at Mark. "My world is not like this one," he whispers. The spider rests on his shoulder calmly. "People don't care for each other like they do here. I think it's why the Web chose me. I knew how to take care of others."

"But you don't know how to let people care for you."

Jeno's bottom lip juts out as he looks down at the spider, and collects her with a hand so he can take her to her rightful home. "I've been alone for a really long time. You said you chose not to do the hero thing anymore, but I didn't get a choice," he lets out a long sigh, returning to his original position. "I'm sorry for your eye. I promise not to scratch you again in the future."

Nodding, Mark brushes his hand against the paper bag in between them and that catches Jeno's attention, he immediately goes for it and then groans, realizing his mistake. "You _can't_ win me by the stomach."

"I already did," Mark points out, and Jeno doesn't reply, shoving a handful of french fries inside his mouth.

//

[ _I haven't slept next to someone in a really long time. Well, I thought I'd only sleep after he does, but he doesn't sleep most of the time — just stays there, watching me, and when I look at him, he pretends he wasn't looking. He dozes off in the morning, when I'm already awake, and he keeps his hands under the pillow all the time. I told him not to worry. We'll be just fine--_ ]

//

Last week, Mark had managed to cajole Jeno into telling him more about his past with a banquet; he spent his day in the kitchen and Jeno his day trying to cling onto Mark's back to get a taste of everything before it was done. He was wearing one of Mark's old sweatshirts from college, BIOPHYSICS — CLASS OF 2022 embroidered over his chest, and it was almost like they were lovers — Mark's cheeks blush pink when he thinks of it, and does Jeno let him know. He reaches over the table and presses a finger to Mark's cheek, and keeps pressing until it starts to hurt just to be a little shiit, and Mark bats his hand away.

Anyway. Wherever Jeno comes from is not a good world — it's a world gone bad, like fruit that you leave forgotten at the back of your fridge, the ones you only notice when they start to smell. It was already bad when Jeno was born, and it will still be bad after Jeno dies. Perhaps it's why he's Spider-Man in the first place — heroes are born when salvation doesn't look like an option anymore.

Which is also why, well-- Mark doesn't like saying he looks like a freak anymore. The way Jeno lick his lips at the sight of raw meat and never sleeps has rubbed on him like a fever he can't sweat out — he finds himself looking forward to watch Jeno sitting on the windowsill, spreading out his arms towards the sunlight that paints Mark's beloved Queens a warm yellow every morning, and then Mark will lean over that same windowsill to see where Jeno will land when he jumps, smiling up at him with teeth too sharp and half-moon eyes full of mischief.

Heroes are born when people start needing them, after all. It doesn't matter how they look like or in which circumstances they're born; they simply are. Jeno needed Mark, and in a sense, Mark needed him, too. It comes back to that.

"What are we going to do today?" Jeno asks him. He's eating the rest of Mark's favorite strawberry jam straight from the jar without any spoon, licking the jam from his long fingers messily. It's… Weirdly endearing. Mark throws a napkin in his direction but he promptly ignores it. "Is your weird friend going to run more tests on me? I hate needles."

Mark hums as he thinks. He, very reluctantly, introduced Jeno to Johnny the last time Johnny was in NYC — it wasn't pretty, but it worked. Jeno freaks out when he's inside places he doesn't know his way out, but Mark managed to get him to Johnny's office with Jeno's hand curled around his arm in a death grip. It lasted for twenty seven minutes before he stopped replying to every question Johnny had for him and stared grumpily at Mark before he called the meeting off.

"Nah, Johnny's got things to do and places to be," he replies after a while. "You know he's our best shot against Morlun, right? I was barely able to contain him last time. I had Deadpool and Daredevil with me, and this time, we have no one."

Jeno shrugs, releasing his middle finger from his mouth with a loud pop!, "He's not like you and me," he points out. "That Johnny guy. I don't know what he is. Weirds me out."

"He wasn't bitten by a spider like we were. He--" Mark motions vaguely. "Did some other thing. Like a ritual or something, anyway, he protects us. I met him right after I fought Morlun, they're each other's nemesis, so you can trust him."

Jeno stares at him blankly.

"A nemesis is a rival," he explains in a soft tone. "One you've had for a really long time, and will probably have until either of you dies."

Jeno lets out a long hum as he drops the now empty jar of jam on the table.

"I was thinking," Mark taps a finger against his chin. "To show you around the neighborhood. I was born here, you know."

"In this _building_? Wow, that's attachment."

"What--" he shakes his head, laughing. "Jeno, you're something else."

Jeno smiles happily as if he knows. Mark is glad that he knows.

//

It's been seven months since they talked for the first time back in that subway train, and it's been two years and seven months since Mark saw his suit for the last time.

"It is very colorful," Jeno comments as he peeks over Mark's shoulder. "White, pink. Do you not worry that they're going to see you from miles away?"

Mark frowns — this isn't something he thought through when he designed his suit at age sixteen. "Well, I suppose it's not a problem for you," Jeno continues, his breath hitting Mark's ear. "Everything around here is colorful like you are. Why the ballet shoes, though? The woman on the TV, on the program I watched last week, said only girls wore those. I don't know why. Why?"

"Gender roles, Jeno, but they're bullshit," he replies with a chuckle, pressing the suit to his chest. It's just come out of the drying machine, warm and smelling good. Familiar.

Jeno hums. "Okay. I'll remember it next time."

It's been nine months since they talked for the first time back in that subway train, two years and nine months since Jeno died, seven years and nine months since Mark got bitten by a radioactive spider. He's nervous about what's going to happen in three months. There is something odd about every 27th of August. Nothing good comes in trios, anyway.

"C'mon, I wanna see you suited up," Jeno demands in a whine, his arms crossed as he sits back on Mark's bed. _He_ is suited up, every inch of his body clad in black and white like a zebra spider, except for his face, of course. Jeno's suit is not spandex like Mark's is, it's Anti-Metal, artificial vibranium, different from the Wakandan type but still rare. Mark has no idea how Jeno's got his hands on that.

Mark rolls his eyes, burying his face in the piece of clothing for a second. Truth is that S.H.I.E.L.D has been good for him for as long as he's been Spider-Man; this suit doesn't rip apart at the seams with time. It will always wait for Mark. He carefully sets it on the mattress beside Jeno and starts tugging at his own t-shirt.

Aiming his shirt and pants at the laundry basket across the room, Mark looks at Jeno, who's been looking at him. Mark is not stupid, and neither is he a stranger to being looked at, but he still runs his hands over the scars in his arms and shoulders self-consciously before starting to slide into his suit. Jeno leans forward where he's sitting cross legged on the bed, but doesn't touch him. He just keeps looking.

"Very colorful," he comments. "I bet I can see you from a mile away."

Mark takes a deep breath and winks at him before putting his mask on. "Keep an eye on me, then."

//

"I have them, too," Jeno says once they're safely hidden from the common eye, up and up and up. His New York is the prettiest when Mark looks down at her, and his skin is still prickling with adrenaline. He hasn't been out there as Spider-Man for so long, and even if all he and Jeno did was retrieve an old lady's purse from a robber, it's good to feel like you've done something good. A kid in the street had tugged at their mother's hand and said _mommy, it's Spidey again!_ , and Mark will think about it as he falls asleep.

Mark doesn't hear it at first, too distracted fumbling with the mask in his hands, and he hums: "Huh?"

"I have them, too," Jeno repeats. When Mark looks at him with a frown, he says: "The scars. I have lots of them, too."

"I know," Mark replies softly. He's seen them, covering Jeno's body in white stripes like he's a true zebra spider. On his back, his stomach, around his neck, the back of his hands. Well, his face. And he doesn't bother hiding them like Mark does. "This life of ours, right?"

Jeno nods as he starts cracking his knuckles. He uses fingerless leather gloves, as the web comes out of his fingertips, and Mark has found out that if he were to press his thumb really hard to a certain spot in Jeno's wrist, he'd trigger the web shooting. Jeno was not very pleased and threatened to bite Mark's hand off if he ever did it again.

"When do you think Morlun is going to show up?" Jeno asks, his voice distant like he's not interested in having this conversation but started it anyway.

Mark does not know. It's impossible to know. Psychic vampires like him just show up, is what Johnny has told him before. "Do you miss home?" he asks instead, and watches as Jeno lets out a laugh, a very sad one.

"I don't think there's a home to go back to," he replies, which surprises Mark. "It was the end of it when I left. I think I was the one that needed a hero, so Anansi sent me here."

A shiver runs up Mark's spine, nevermind the way the wind catches when you're so up you could touch the sky. "Anansi," he says slowly. He hasn't thought about the original Spider-Man in a really long time; He's a god, a myth, a legend, one that Mark's only seen in his dreams. He's built the Web of Life and Destiny himself. "You think He sent you here?"

Jeno nods. "I asked."

"You talk to Him?"

"All the time,"

"And He replies?"

"No, but He's always listening. What a silly question, Mark. Us spiders are never alone, no matter where we are."

//

[ _No matter where we are, huh_ ]

//

"So, basically, Jeno was bitten by a spider--" Johnny says over the phone, his voice slurred because of the poor connection. His office is underground, several miles under Manhattan, which is why Jeno feels queasy every time they visit. "--but it was not radioactive like yours was — I know you know that already, Mark, it's just that "because he said it" doesn't mean that I trust his judgement. Well, it's why his habits and mannerisms are much more like a spider's than, well, than what you are like. He comes from somewhere all beings are not like they are here, you know? That spider was no average spider. The venom injected in him potentialized much more things than it did to you. Knowing that, well, I'm here to say that his body doesn't deal with radiation the way yours does. "

Mark hums to let him know he's listening as he walks through an isle in the supermarket. Johnny continues: "I was actually thinking about high levels of radiation in his universe, but since he responds badly to it, he's really just… Something else in his nature. He's naturally weird, for a lack of better words."

"Don't call him that," Mark hisses as he puts another package of frozen chicken in his basket. "So… ?"

"So, your original idea isn't going to work. His DNA sequence, it's just crazy, I'm not even sure if we can call it a DNA. I almost called Professor X, seriously. If he were to be exposed to a higher level of radiation, I don't know what could happen to him. He'd burst into flames, disintegrate, the possibilities are infinite."

Mark groans. He reaches out for more dairy products, more bread, more chocolate — it's a good thing that his father's life insurance and some Spidey royalties cover Jeno's eating needs. "I'm running out of ideas," he admits with a sigh. "Actually, that was my only good idea. How about fire?"

"It'd just piss Morlun off."

"Drowning?"

"Again, it'd just piss him off. That pill you created would be the perfect answer, as radiation will _surely_ kill Morlun--"

"But radiation would kill _Jeno_ ," Mark replies matter-of-factly, which earns him a weird look from a little girl on the line to pay. Mark sticks his tongue out at her just because he's not in the mood, and she does it back at him. "I want to save him, not send him to a suicide mission. Forget what I even said about injecting radiation in him, I'm not doing that. Unless--"

He stops himself, looking down at the products in his basket. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!, his mind tells him. !!!!!!!!!!!!!, indeed.

"Did you know," Mark comments absentmindedly. He puts his basket on the counter when it's his time to pay and smiles at the cashier, equilibrating the phone between his ear and shoulder. "That Jeno and I are the same height?"

Johnny sighs exasperatedly on the other side of the line. "And what does this have to do with anything I just said, Mark?"

The cashier asks if he needs a bag, he points to the backpack hanging loosely on his shoulder. "Nothing in particular. I gotta go, talk to you later."

//

In the middle of June, Mark takes Jeno to the ballet. He hates being inside the opera house, but stays nevertheless, and he cries from start to finish. "I think that's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," is what he says. Now Mark sees a bit of all of it every time Jeno swings through the city with him.

In July, Renjun calls. Mark hasn't heard or seen him in an awfully long time, and he climbs to the roof to talk to him because he doesn't want Jeno to listen. Renjun is, essentially, the only person who was _always_ there until he wasn't. He lived across the street from the house Mark grew up in, and they went to high school together, and they were going to go to college together, and they were brilliant together. The three of them – Mark, Renjun, _Jeno_ – were going to do many things. _They_ were meant for the bigger things. And then, well-- then Mark got bitten by a radioactive spider. Then he killed Renjun's father before he could kill him. And then Jeno died. You know the rest. "I think we should catch up," Renjun says softly. "When I'm back in the city at the end of the year. Would you like that?"

In early August, Mark turns twenty four. Jeno tries to make him pancakes and burns all of them, which makes him upset, and in a spur of courage, Mark kisses him on the cheek. [ _Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid STUPID!!!!!!!!!_ ]. Jeno doesn't let him live because of it for two weeks. [ _… Fuck_ ]

//

On August 27th, Jeno wakes up with a startle in the middle of the night, one of his hands clutching the front of Mark's sleepshirt. "There's something wrong," he gasps. "Mark, wake up. Wake up, wake up, wake up--"

Blinking slowly at the ceiling, Mark rests a hand over his, trying to disentangle Jeno's fingers from his shirt, and replies, voice still heavily coated with sleep: "I'm awake, is everything alright? Did you have a nightmare?"

He listens as Jeno's breathing evens out, and turns in the bed to face him. In the dark, he can't see properly, but knows that Jeno can. "I just felt something really weird," the latter whispers, holding onto his fingers tightly. Jeno has long fingers that fit in the space between Mark's perfectly, and very sharp nails, but he's more careful with them now. "I think something's going to happen. I felt it in my guts, we have to do something, _anything,_ I don't know, I just felt it. Did you feel it, too?"

"You just had a nightmare, it's fine," Mark tells him. Jeno lets out a long sigh, his breath hitting Mark's face as softly as a breeze, and he lets go of his hand to touch Mark's cheek, as if to make sure he's really there. "It's alright, I'm not going anywhere. You can sleep now."

He feels it when Jeno nods, and he's asleep within seconds. Mark gently moves Jeno's hand from his face to the space between them.

//

[ _I'm not stupid. I felt it, too_ ]

//

Dying is… funny.

Mark almost died countless times; he's met Death before, actually, the last time Deadpool was in town and he tried to convince Mark into going on a double date – Lucas Wong has the stupidest ideas, he thinks. Mark looks up at the night sky and the little flames coming up from the blown up cars and he makes a list inside his head: when Wolverine stabbed him, when Vulture dropped him from high heights, when Renjun's dad injured him severely, when he was transferred to Dr. Octopus' body and nearly died, when his own dad shot him by accident, when Kraven shot _and_ buried him… He's almost died countless times. This is fine.

"I searched for you for an awfully long time," says Morlun as he towers over his figure. He's decaying, smells putrid like rotting corpses, he's not as strong as he was when Mark kicked his ass to hell and back the last time he was around. Still, the vampire gets a hold of Mark's chin and presses his long, long nails to his cheeks until they bleed over the mask, then he watches as Morlun licks his fingers clean. "You're always the best to feed from, Jeno Lee. The purest Spider-Totem in the multiverse."

Mark fights the urge to laugh. He's dizzy with the pill's effects, he thought there'd be no side effects but everything is bright in color, his blood, the flames, Morlun's eyes. The sky can't possibly be that clear, it never is that clear in New York City, but Mark swears he can reach out with a hand and pluck a star from that dark sea, he's going to take it home to Jeno and ask if he's going to forgive Mark for stealing his suit.

He doesn't feel it when Morlun's teeth sink in, but raises himself up on his elbows when the vampire leans back, coughing violently. "Did you not like it?" Mark blurts out. "I added a little bit of spice just for you."

"What--" Morlun lunches himself forward, grabbing him by the front of the suit. Mark sighs as he's lifted up in the air, he broke a rib somewhere in their encounter and it hasn't healed properly yet. With one shaky hand, the vampire reaches out and rips Jeno's mask off him. "You're-- you're not him, you're not _pure…_ !"

"Ooops," Mark laughs. It hurts to breath, but Morlun's starting to shake violently, he's having a lot of fun with this. "Did you know I handle radiation very well? Because I was bitten by a radioactive spider, you know. I figured you wouldn't be able to digest it if I had a little bit more of it in me."

Morlun doesn't reply. He drops Mark on the ground like a ragdoll and brings his hands to his own torso and stomach, and Mark is able to kick his legs with little difficulty, watching as he crumbles to the ground as well.

"You can't kill me," Morlun tells him as his body collapses from inside. Johnny was right. Radiation is the answer, and it's a good thing that Mark learned a thing or two in college, when he was an intern at Kun's research center, so many years ago. "I'm a god. I can't _die_ in the hands of an insignificant bug like you--"

Mark rolls away from him, groaning with the effort, but puts himself on his feet.

"Spiders aren't bugs, and I was gonna go for a PhD, motherfucker," he spits out. "If you ever resuscitate and come for Jeno again, you better make sure I don't hear of it. Let it be a warning."

The vampire doesn't hear the rest of it. Mark gives him a good kick to seal the deal, and turns around to leave.

//

"You can't possibly still be mad at me. It's been a week."

Jeno crosses his arms tightly over his chest, staring at him with his-- well.

"Stop looking at these eyes," he demands, and Mark's gaze goes from the extra pair of eyes that totally wasn't on his forehead before. Jeno points at his usual pair. "Look in _these_ when I'm talking to you,"

"I am looking," he replies, dropping a paper bag on the coffee table. Jeno eyes it curiously, but he's become quite aware of the way Mark is always trying to calm him down with food. Says it's not fair to use biology against him, or something like that."Is that what you do when you get really mad? Become a real spider? Are you going to grow a pair of chelicerae and bite me, big guy?"

Jeno inhales a long breath, closing his… Default eyes for a second, and when he opens them again, they're not totally black and glazed over, and the extra pair is gone as well. Good thing, because Mark was starting to get a little freaked out.

"It happens sometimes," he admits, quite embarrassedly. "But the chelicerae never happened. I've grown extra arms before, though, it's to intimidate opponents. I figured you don't do that. And _don't_ change the subject!"

Mark shakes his head, sitting on the edge of the pull-out sofa. Out of stubborness, Jeno moves to sit away from him. "Well, I was once turned into a giant spider by an evil scientist, did you know that?" when Jeno doesn't react, he adds: "Jeno, I saved your life just like you asked me to do."

"And almost died in the process. What if it went wrong? What would _I_ do if you died?"

Johnny has told him about this when he found out about how Mark defeated Morlun. _He might feel like he's at fault for you getting hurt, etc and all. You have to take it easy with him_. He tentatively holds out a hand and Jeno hisses at him, his fangs sharper than usual.

"You lied to me that you didn't feel it when Morlun entered this reality," Jeno continues, counting with his fingers. "You stole my suit while I slept, pretended to be me, threw yourself at Morlun's mercy because you _thought_ you wouldn't die. We were going to do it _together_."

"I knew I wasn't going to die! I didn't want to put you in danger, that's all."

Jeno sighs. He puts his hands to his lap, looking at him with an unreadable expression. For a moment, Mark wonders if he fucked up for good this time – Morlun is gone, but at what cost? If Jeno's going to look at him like this--

"I'm not used to this," Jeno says suddenly. He scoots closer to Mark slowly, sitting cross-legged, keeps his eyes on the space between their knees. "If you died, I'd just-- I _felt_ it. You were almost gone. I didn't know what to do."

Mark stays silent for a while. He knew he wasn't going to die, but Jeno couldn't possibly know that, hence why he's been giving Mark the cold shoulder ever since. But if he were to warn him, though, if he were to say _hey, I'm going to pretend to be you and let Morlun feed on me after I inject a high level of radiation on my own body_ … Jeno would simply not let him do it. He'd probably run away, do his thing, put himself in danger, and Mark couldn't have that.

"I'm not sorry that I did it," he tells him, leaning in Jeno's direction. "But I'm sorry that I made you upset. I don't want to go on like this, do you forgive me?"

Jeno frowns, still not looking at him, but he pulls Mark's hand to his lap and holds onto it. He's developed an habit in the past months, he can't quite keep his hands to himself, and while Mark has never been too fond of anything like this, he finds himself indulging him. He turns his palm upwards and Jeno rubs his thumb against a burn scar Mark that he has over his life line.

"I forgive you," Jeno replies in a whisper, but he still presses the tip of his nail to Mark's still, as a warning. "But I'll still sue you for identity theft."

Mark laughs: "Being you is pretty easy. All I have to do is growl at people."

Rolling his eyes, Jeno lets go of his hand to givs him a light push, but holds onto Mark's shirt when he nearly slips off the couch. Instead of letting go, he pulls him closer until Mark's left staring at his eyes. "Just don't die on me, Mark Lee," he says. "I won't be nice next time."

"Would you miss me too much if I was gone?"

Jeno doesn't reply. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!, Mark's mind tells him. Like standing at the edge of an abyss he's not afraid to face anymore. He brings his hands to cup Jeno's face, rubbing a thumb against his scar, and takes that leap.

//

"There's something wrong about that Jaemin dude," Jeno says over breakfast. "You should break up with him."

"He's not my boyfriend. _You_ are."

"Break up with him as friends, duh,"

Mark scoffs as he turns another page on The Daily Bugle, his thumb brushing over where he'd usually find Jaemin's name at the top of his column. "Why'd you think that, anyway?"

Jeno's bottom lip juts out as he pouts. He then shoves his fifth sandwich of the day inside his mouth in one go, and says as he chews: "He smells weird. He didn't before, but he does now."

"You're saying that because you're jealous of him," Mark replies, although that's dangerous territory he's stepping in. Jeno doesn't like being confronted about anything, but especially about him being jealous of Mark's ex. "Jaemin smells perfectly fine. He, for one, showers frequently."

Jeno squints his eyes at him. Then again, the confrontation, and he flicks a small piece of ham in Mark's direction — it lands on his newspaper, in the shape of New York City. Mark brushes it away.

"I shower, too," he says, defensively. It's true. He smells like Mark's shampoo all the time now. "Almost every day, and you love me for it. But there's something off about Jaemin. The spiders don't like him."

Mark hears it when he doesn't say _\--and neither do I_. He feels like Jeno lives inside his head recently, must be because they're one and the same — Mark used to miss being alone, but not anymore. "Is this about the last time he called? He just wanted to talk, he was upset about being fired," Mark replies. He puts the newspaper down and reaches for his mug of coffee, only to find it in Jeno's hands. He scowls, and Jeno flashes him a teasing grin. "Jaemin is a great friend to me, Jeno. He can be a good friend to you, too."

"But spiders don't like him," Jeno insists. "They told me, Mark. One day, you'll thank me for saying this."

"Yeah," Mark turns another page. "I will, Jen, I will."

His phone lights up with a text.

//

Jeno's fingers dig to Mark's sides protectively as he leans to whisper in his ear: "I don't like it here. There are no spiders in this building. We should leave before whatever it is that scared them away comes from us, because I'm not in the mood for kicking ass this early in the morning. I didn't finish my breakfast."

Mark rolls his eyes, kicking a shard of broken glass away from the entrance to Jaemin's apartment, and takes a step to get inside. Despite his uneasiness, Jeno follows, his hand on Mark's lower back naturally, but he screeches loudly as a loud bang comes from the kitchen, glued to the ceiling in a second. Mark looks up at him, motions for him to keep quiet, and walks further into Jaemin's place.

"I _don't_ like it here." Jeno repeats in a whisper, back on the floor. He picks another shard of glass to inspect it and then throws it over his shoulder, crawling over a fluffy rug to inspect a dark red liquid still fresh over it. He dips his pinky finger on it and licks it despite Mark's warning look. "It's wine. Cheap. Disgusting."

Mark frowns. Jaemin's text on his phone was, to say the least, unintelligible, and since Jaemin never dares to let himself make the tiniest typo, they're here. He would've come alone if it wasn't for, well, Jeno's Jaemin complex. He motions for Jeno to get behind him and starts walking to the kitchen.

"Oh, my God, I'm _so_ glad that you're here."

Mark widens his eyes, one hand coming to rest on Jeno's chest protectively, but the latter leaps forward.

"Oh, that explains the lack of spiders," he says, crouching on the floor to poke at the black goo on the floor. It recoils quickly, and Jeno laughs. "They don't react well to the Klyntar folk. Mark, you _never_ told me your ex had a symbiote."

To which Jaemin, sitting cross legged on the floor with empty many packages of frozen chicken nuggets surrounding him, replies: "That's because we were only "I" once," and the black goo splashed over his chest molds itself into a human face, its eyes curl with a smile. "But we don't like remembering it. We are so much better now that we're together."

Jaemin, well-- Mark raises an eyebrow at him, and brushes his blue hair, damp with sweat, off his eyes. "I apologize for the mess," he says in a tired voice. "I thought all this was a flu or something, but--" he coughs, and the black goo disappears, only to coat half of his face and stick a long, long tongue in Jeno's direction teasingly. The latter scowls in disgust, jumping to Mark's side once more. "I'm sorry, his manners are awful. He got really mad that all I would eat was chicken soup."

"We don't like chicken soup, it's disgusting," says the goo. Jeno laughs once more, and Mark pats his chest so that he'll stop, which only earns him a hiss. Maybe him and Jaemin are not in such different situations.

Jaemin looks down at himself, as if he's only realized the state he's in, and starts brushing the food crumbs off his clothes compulsively. "Anyway," he starts, getting up from the floor. He nearly falls over, and Mark steps forward to help, but the black goo snaps its teeth millimeters away from his face.

"That's not nice, dude!" Jeno exclaims, pulling him back. The extra pairs of eyes are back, and Jaemin widens his own.

"Jeno, it's fine," Mark insists, and then turns to Jaemin once more. He's fully human now, no symbiote on sight, but his eyes look more black than the usual warm brown. "I think we both have a lot to catch up. Does your coffee machine still work?"

**Author's Note:**

> hbd jen


End file.
